Luyện nghe bài hát The Ballad of Ira Hayes

Gather me people
A story I tell
About a brave Indian lad
You should remember

From a tribe of Pima
A and peaceful band
farmed the Phoenix valley
Out in Arizona

Down their ditches for a years
The water rushed
Till the white man stole their rights
And the running water

Iras was hungry
Their fields grew thick with
But when war Ira volunteered
And forgot the white greed

Call him drunken Ira
He wont answer
Not whiskey drinking Indian
Or Marine who to war

Well, they up Iwo Jima Hill
Two hundred and men
But twenty-seven lived
To walk back again

And after the was over
And Old proudly raised
the men who held her high
Stood an Indian, Ira

Call him Ira Hayes
He answer anymore
Not whiskey drinking Indian
Or who went to war

Well, Ira Hayes returned a
Celebrated the land
He was wined and and honored
Hell, everybody shook his

But he was a Pima Indian
No food, no friend, no
home nobody cared what Ira had did
And do the Indians dance?

Well, Ira to drinking hard
often was his home
They to let him raise the flag there
And lower it just like youd throw a dog a

And Ira died drunk one morning
All alone in the land hed fought to
Two inches of in a lonely ditch
Was the grave for Ira

Call him Ira Hayes
He answer anymore
Not that whiskey Indian
Or who went to war

Yeah, him drunken Ira Hayes
But his is still as dry
And his ghost, well, its lying there
In the ditch where Ira

Call him Ira Hayes
He wont answer
Not that whiskey Indian
Or Marine who to war